


Scarlet

by butterofsalmon



Series: The Oolong Chronicles [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action, Angst, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I just want Qui-Gon to be happy and loved and held close, Mentions of Death, Pining, Romance, Sith!Qui-Gon, Student/Teacher, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterofsalmon/pseuds/butterofsalmon
Summary: In no particular rush, Qui-Gon strolled over to you, and terror filled you as you scrambled back to your feet, your ignited lightsaber still in your hand. You finally got a good look at him under the street light; groomed beard, silky long hair pulled back away from his face, an enigmatic expression, but something was entirely different. His black robes seemed almost unnatural against his complexion. He was coldblooded. Hardened. A Sith.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Reader
Series: The Oolong Chronicles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630987
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “I’d like to request sith qui gon jinn if possible? Maybe something along the lines of you were his padawan at some point and had left on a mission only to come back tasked with the mission to kill the newly turned sith.”
> 
> Alright sooooooo I definitely wanted this to turn into smut, but it turned super angsty and fluffy and you know what? I’m just gonna write another Sith!Qui-Gon smut oneshot later. As most of you know, I was pretty bummed that my last smut kind of flopped because Qui-Gon was too OOC. I’m thinking I have to practice writing him a little bit more, or maybe put the idea of a super aggressive Qui-Gon down to rest. IDK IDK. I’ll figure it out… Anyways, enjoy. Much love. (❁´◡`❁)

The bustling streets of Coruscant’s entertainment district hummed with life and people, each with their own preoccupations and purposes. Street lights and neon billboards flickered in every shade imaginable, bleeding colour into midnight’s darkness and gleaming on the bellies of overhead speeders. Amongst the throngs of traffic, a hooded individual. He trekked through the streets with purpose, and most importantly, unnoticed.

You made your way through the crowd, a discreet distance between you and your target, and a frown knitting your brows.

Being a trained, knighted Sentinel, you were tailormade for this mission. Dozens of tracking and infiltration missions were in your arsenal, and Sentinels’ speciality lay in blending into crowds and surveillance. However, this was your first time tracking a Sith, and your first time tracking your former Master. 

_Obi-Wan Kenobi was defeated in battle by a Sith. Master Jinn, upon the fall of his Padawan, has turned to the dark side_. A wave of nausea creeped up your throat as you recalled the words the Council had articulated. _Given your experience in covert missions, and your extensive knowledge of Master Jinn’s methods, we are assigning you to his capture._

You were still raw at the news of Obi-Wan’s death – though you were ten years his senior, the Padawan had been a rather good friend of yours, and the two of you had shared advice and stories of your adventures with Qui-Gon. You had argued that a Master with much more experience should take on this assignment in your stead, but despite your efforts, the Masters had come to conclusion that the bond you shared with your old Master gave you better chances of pulling him out of the dark without violence. Your goal wasn’t to kill him, but to save him, and the fact that Qui-Gon could make it out of this act of treason alive helped you make at least a bit of peace with the situation. 

The Sith’s strides were long and nimble against the concrete as he made his way through the throngs of people, but his attention was focused on the incessant suspicion that someone had been following exactly 20 steps behind him at all times in the past few days. Enough was enough.

You brought your focus back to the task at hand, ridding yourself of your unease with a shake of your head. You had hardly noticed that your target had increased his speed until it became harder and harder for you to keep the back of his head in view. You picked up your pace, expertly circumventing Coruscanti civilians left and right, but never exceeding a discreet walk. Until you watched the man veer left into an alley.

_Dammit._

Teeth clenched together in panic, you broke into a sprint and tore through the thick crowd, ignoring the shouts and insults left in your wake. When you reached the alleyway’s opening, you pressed yourself against the wall and peeked into the backstreet; keeping up with the man was important, but worthless if he spotted you before you could approach him. Thankfully, past a thinning group of civilians, you caught a glimpse of his shoulder rounding into another back alley, and you darted forward. You repeated your strategy once you got to the corner, peering into the alley he had entered. You watched him round yet another corner, and you ran as fast as you could, determined to end this game of cat and mouse. However, upon entering the very alley he had walked into, you found it completely empty. And a dead end.

You paced forward, head darting all around you, making sure to check each and every angle of your surroundings. Up, down, left, right… It was no use; he had disappeared.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. It had taken you weeks to sniff out even a semblance of his trail. Anchored to your spot, your hand ran through your hair as you paused to deliberate your next course of action. Perhaps the best thing to do now was report back to the Council; they’d advise you on how to continue from here.

Content with your decision, you turned to exit the way you came from, only to be met by a scarlet lightsaber pointed at your throat, and piercing gold eyes.

A sheet of cold sweat instantly coated your skin when you realized if you hadn’t stopped yourself mid-step, the blade would be through your neck at this very instant. Your eyes rose from the burning heat of the saber at your carotid artery, and locked with eyes you had previously known to be deep blue.

“Your reflexes have improved.”

You frowned. Under his hood, you could only make out a few bits of the tall man’s face as he spoke, shadows dancing dangerously on his skin. You made sure to not give away any sign of compliance, your feet planted solidly in the face of menace, and you tried to read his body language under his black robes. Given the absence of any proper dueling stance, you realized he didn’t see you as much of a threat.

“Qui-Gon.” You greeted, flatly.

“If you care about your life in any way, you will leave this instant,” the man’s voice was low and foreboding, and it wrenched your heart to be spoken to in such a tone by the man you once cared for. “This is your last and only warning.”

Grief creeped up your throat, and you had to swallow hard to supress a swell of tears. He was still Qui-Gon, and you suspected behind his newly hardboiled guise, he was in a tremendous amount of pain.

“I’m not here to fight you; I’m here to bring you home.” Despite your emotions, you spoke evenly. You palmed the lightsaber holstered at your belt, and the Sith effortlessly noticed the movement.

“You’re wasting your time.”

The two of you stood in silence for a beat as you pondered your next move.

“Why?” your voice finally broke. “Why did you turn? No one blames you for Obi-Wan’s dea –”

Unwilling to continue this conversation, seemingly useless to him, the Sith lunged forward. You pivoted, narrowly avoiding a lightsaber to the throat, and took hold of your own weapon when Qui-Gon swung a blow to your shoulder. Your lightsaber screamed to life, and scarlet crashed into amber with an ear-splitting crack. He was incredibly strong, and you had trouble keeping both feet on the ground against his strength. The vibration of saber against saber reverberated throughout the empty alleyway, and summoning enough upper arm strength, you barely managed to shunt him back.

Arm’s length away, you both assumed a high guard, and Qui-Gon threw an overhand cut. You parried quickly, reflexively. The Sith cut from the other side, and you again parried. You moved, back and forth, until, realizing you weren’t dead yet, you began to remember your training. You started to _think_ , to act instead of react. By the looks of it, Qui-Gon’s still relied on his previous saber form, Ataru, which meant he’d keep throwing overhand cuts. You could use this.

With the next cut, you threw your hands up and parried high, with the end of your saber pointed towards Qui-Gon’s hooded face. In your pleasure at your success, you nearly missed the moment to thrust, but thrust you did. Qui-Gon, caught off guard, leapt backwards, striking your emitter away with the back of his hand. Qui-Gon narrowly avoided the cut, but you managed to singe his hood, causing it fall away from his face. You did not fight the blow, but turned the deflection into a roundhouse cut towards his head.

Qui-Gon parried, and his red blade slid down your amber one with a deadly tremor. Before his saber could meet your flesh, you dodged to the side, throwing a crooked cut at his hands, but the older man was anticipating your response. Qui-Gon’s boot slammed into your chest, and you were sent backwards, the breath knocked out of your lungs as you landed on your back. Panicked, you gasped for air.

In no particular rush, Qui-Gon strolled over to you, and terror filled you as you scrambled back to your feet, your ignited lightsaber still in your hand. You finally got a good look at him under the street light. He sported his usual demeanour: groomed beard, silky long hair pulled back away from his face, an enigmatic expression, but something was entirely different. Having been so used to seeing him in Jedi garbs, his black robes seemed almost unnatural against his complexion. He was coldblooded. Hardened. A Sith.

He towered over you and bared his blade. You glared at him, mimicking his stance, but winded from your efforts. Contrary to you, he hadn’t broken a sweat; his expression remained stoic, something he had always excelled in.

“There’s nothing you can do that I won’t see coming,” he remarked. “Your offensive skills are weak.”

“Because I focus on saving people, not cutting them in half,” you heaved through laboured breaths, your grip tightening around your saber. But you knew he was right; you had already lost this battle. “ _You’re_ the one who trained me that way.”

Qui-Gon watched you fight for air to return to your lungs, and something inside him compelled him to give you a second chance to flee. Perhaps it was the quiver of your bottom lip, or the rush of guilt when he realized he was the reason behind the fear in your eyes.

You glared at each other, weapons drawn and stances wide, for what seemed like a long time. Swallowing hard, you wondered if it was a good idea to speak.

“If you are to cut me down, at least tell me why you’ve betrayed us,” you said rather composedly for someone who could barely stop the trembling of her hands. “Was it Obi-Wan?”

There was a pause as Qui-Gon eyed you like his prey. “He wasn’t ready for this mission,” he started, dry and stern. “I had told the Council numerous times; if there was a Sith threat, Obi-Wan wasn’t ready to face them. They pushed us regardless, and now he’s gone. A life wasted.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “Qui-Gon, I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain you’re in,” you sympathized. “But you have to fight and come back to us. The Jedi are peacekeepers; it’s all you’ve ever known. You’re not a Sith!”

“The Jedi have turned into political bodyguards, sacrificing the lives of their brothers for territorial profit. Fighting for a cause I don’t believe in… At the expense of my own. I won’t stand for it.”

You ground your teeth. “If you leave us before we can fight against this darkness, Obi-Wan’s life will have been given in vain!”

As if your words had physically hit him, you caught him wince. “You’re wrong. They’ll only ever use you; it’s all you’re good for in their eyes,” he countered, his voice increasing in both volume and emotion. “Leave, before they waste your life, too.”

Despite your best efforts to remain stoic in the face of your former Master, tears stung your eyes at his distrust. Barely above a whisper, you replied solemnly, “You know I can’t do that.”

Without warning, his stance shifted. Summoning a burst of the Force, he pushed you back and sent his former apprentice stumbling backward several steps. He charged at you, and his attacks hammered into you at full strength and reach. He battered you with blows, and you struggled to defend yourself against the sheer physical strength and superior skill of your former Master.

In between barrages of attacks, Qui-Gon roared, “You would succumb to the Council’s pointless sacrifices? Just to bring me back to the Temple?”

Qui-Gon didn’t allow you any opportunity to regroup, and without any sort of break, your muscles tired. Through grunts of arduous effort, you shouted back at him, “This has nothing to do with the Council!”

He backed you into the dead end, and by the time you felt your heel against the wall, your exhaustion threatened to overcome you. “I’d do anything to bring you home, Qui-Gon.”

His mouth fell open at your unfaltering forgiveness. Blade to blade, he searched your eyes over the red-hot of your weapons as they sizzled against one another.

“You are not evil to me,” you stammered, pushing with all of your might against his strength to not be scorched to ash by his blade. “Please, don’t do this.”

You watched him search for something in your face for what seemed like eternity, but his face never betrayed his stringency. All he found in your expression was pure, honest compassion. The effect it had on him was opposite as a vision flashed before him; your lifeless, bloodstained body sprawled on the Temple grounds, lightsaber and life cast aside for the sake of the Republic’s reign. His blood boiled at the thought of the Order taking advantage of your unadulterated devotion, yet another precious life wasted, and he saw red when he was stricken with the thought of losing another. They wouldn’t take you from him, too.

In his blinded rage, Qui-Gon deflected your blade to the side, creating an opening. Everything seemed to move at half the speed as you watched, futilely, as the Sith drove his blade forward. Pain exploded at your side when the man’s saber gashed along your waist, and you cried out in agony, pain screwing your eyes shut, as you fell to the ground, lightsaber falling out of your grasp. Mind poisoned, Qui-Gon watched you writhe in pain at his feet, clutching your wound as you balled up into a fit of anguish. Something inside him broke.

His hands began to tremble. Your whimpers of distress churned his stomach. His former Padawan, the Jedi he had taught everything had ever known, his loyal friend, the woman he had come to cherish, his light. She was doubled over in agony before him by his own hand.

As if a sudden burst of unseen energy had unshrouded his vision, Qui-Gon’s fingers went limp around his weapon. The lightsaber dropped to the ground as the dark-haired man came to a realization: he was becoming the very thing he swore to fight.

With furrowed brows, you managed to make out a lightsaber being abandoned, landing heavily ground, but the sight was soon obstructed by a pair of boots kneeling before you. You felt a gentle hand on your hip, and another on the base of your neck. You were carefully rolled onto your back, and pulled into a set of arms. Deft, gloved fingers stroked the hair plastered to your sweat-soaked face away from your eyes, and with great difficulty, you opened your eyes. You could only manage a garbled breath when they were met with righteous blue.

Qui-Gon peered down at you, panic seizing his every sense as a stiff, grimace of a smile grew on your face. Dexterously, his eyes darted to your clutched side, and he peeled your hand away from the wound. With a reluctant grunt, you let him pull up your shirt to examine the angry, red skin his cut had left behind, and he heaved a quiet sigh to himself. It wasn’t fatal. He wondered if, subconsciously, his body had intended for the wound to be harmless.

Regardless, he quickly reached behind him to pull a bacta patch out of the pouch on his utility belt. Cradling you in his free arm, the older man ripped the package open with his teeth and carefully applied the patch to the cauterized wound with one hand. Teeth clenched together and face twisted in pain, he watched as you supressed a cry when you felt the bacta’s effect. He caught your hand in his when he saw you reach instinctively for the injury, and instead, brought it close to his chest as you squeezed his hand in agony.

You could’ve sworn the bacta hurt more than the slash itself, and you unreservedly crushed the living daylight’s out of Qui-Gon’s grasp as retribution, riding out your pain, certain that he would be left with a bruised hand. When the waves of pain subsided to a tolerable, dull ache, your grasp loosened around his, and you heaved a breath of relief. Your eyes opened and met his, his long hair draping over his broad shoulders as he watched you intently for any signs of pain. Instead, he found a small smile growing on your face. He clenched his jaw, and tightened his grip on your much smaller hand.

“(Y/N), I’m,” Qui-Gon stammered, guilt overflowing. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I –” he continued to stutter, lost in his regret. “To have caused you this much pain, emotionally, and now… physically.” His last word held all the remorse in the world.

You shifted in his arms, a sign that you could hold yourself up. He let you go, and though with a wince or two, you managed to press your back up against the brick wall of the alley, hand clasped over your injury as if it’d dull the pain. He continued to kneel before you. Once you found some sort of comfort against the wall, you offered him a lopsided grin, and it took him completely by surprise.

“I told you I’d do anything to bring you back,” you spoke, and had he not been plagued by regret, he would’ve laughed. You reached out to him to tenderly tuck a strand of his silky black hair behind his ear. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Qui-Gon. There isn’t an ounce of you that belongs to the dark, and if you are ever to fall, I will always come to you and bring you home.” You took some time to admire the way he looked so intently into your eyes before you spoke again, “We both owe it to Obi-Wan.”

You caught the dip of his larynx in his throat as he swallowed with difficulty, and you could tell you had hit a sore spot. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon leaned forward and gathered you in his arms, to which you happily complied and wrapped your own arms around his much larger build. He held you close to him, embracing you with just enough force to not hurt you, but enough to show you he was overcome with emotion; he was eternally indebted to you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, both to inhale your sweet scent and hide the tears that threatened to swell in his eyes. You hugged him close, clutching his back as your nose tucked into the collar of his robes by his neck, and you felt nothing but relief that the man you loved was safe. You held each other, the only sound audible being your heartbeats and breathing.

He pulled away after a while, but not enough to release you. You looked deeply into each other’s eyes, your smile offering the world to him as his own little smile grew on his lips. The pull felt strange to him; he hadn’t smiled in weeks.

He took the opportunity to catalogue your every feature; the sparkle in your eyes as you looked at him, the way your disheveled hair fell over your face, the alluring shape of your lips. His hand found your cheek, and he cupped the face he had thought of so often in his days of solitude.

“You are my light,” he murmured, his thumb running over your sweat-covered skin. “You shine so bright, my love. There’s nothing you cannot illuminate, and I will protect and cherish your radiance until my dying breath.”

Bashfully, you smiled and leaned into his touch as a wave of adoration washed over you. You watched his beautiful eyes flicker to your lips, and you tentatively leaned an inch closer. This only encouraged him, his hand pulling you closer to him, and your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into you, his own eyes closing. Tenderly, your lips met in an exhilarating, adoring kiss, and any trace of darkness left in Qui-Gon was conquered, replaced by unwavering love for his other half. His lips were so warm, and so soft, and you felt yourself melt in his arms. You pulled away to gauge each other’s reaction to your joining, and the both of you were met with utter bliss. Gods, you were so beautiful. Without a second thought, he captured you in another breathtaking kiss, moving his lips against yours fervently.

Between your kisses, you breathed, “I love you, Qui-Gon.”

You felt him smile against your heated kisses, and with a swipe of his tongue against your lower lip, he pulled away. You flushed as his eyes seized yours with intent. “I love you very much,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, “My light,” then lavished another kiss another down your chin. “My love,” up your jaw, and to your neck, then back to your lips. “My better half.”

You eyed him adoringly as he stroked your cheek, an uncontrollable smile on your face. You watched him shift finally, moving to stand. He stretched his hand out for you to take as he stood over you, and your heart fluttered at his words.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not add a chapter to this one later on. Thoughts?
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblah! tumblr.com/salmonbutter
> 
> If you like my writing, and would like to support me, please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi (www.ko-fi.com/salmonbutter for as little as $3! (❁´◡`❁) If you cannot donate, I totally understand! Instead, please leave me a comment! <3


End file.
